Black Spandex
by Orion Kohaishu
Summary: [JeanPaulBobby] Black spandex. That was the first thing I noticed about him. It couldn't have been more than 25 degrees outside, and he wore nothing but black spandex. And I was instantly and unexpectedly head over heels in love with him. SLASH


-Black Spandex-

Written as a Valentine's present for my dear friend, twin sister, and muse, EmeraldKatsEye, for not only helping me update (by helping I mean threatening to break my legs) and dragging me into her obsession. Here ya go Kat! This one's for you! MWAH:Glomps:

Quick legend, since I know it's a bit confusing:

-Words are present actions, and also in the third person point of view

_-Words_ are Bobby's thoughts and his internal monologue, and therefore in the first person point of view.

-Special sections will be set aside for flashbacks, which are clearly marked and in the third person point of view.

Enjoy!

**WARNING:** This fic contains some material that could be considered "controversial." If slash (a romantic pairing of two males) offends you, stop reading now and go become more open-minded.

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_If, when I was younger, anyone had told me that becoming a mutant would lead me to the best thing to ever happen to me, maybe I would have accepted the changes I was going through. Maybe, at the impressionable age of 15, I would have been less reluctant to join the X-Men. Maybe I would have been able to learn to be happy with myself - a happiness I only found nearly two decades later. Maybe I wouldn't have despised myself for years. If anyone had told me that I would indeed find true happiness one day, maybe - just maybe - I would have believed them._

_But if, at that same time when I was just beginning to learn what I was, someone had told me that true happiness would come to me in the form of an arrogant, sarcastic man that I wanted to kill as much as I wanted to kiss... I doubt I would have believed them then._

_Black spandex. That was the first thing I noticed about him. It couldn't have been more than 25 degrees outside, and he wore nothing but black spandex. Not that cold has ever bothered him much... At any rate, the earliest memory I have of him is of black spandex. I was in town on one of Xavier's missions, while he **was** the mission. I found him outside the designated meeting point, casually leaning against the wall, his eyes half-hooded behind his long lashes. His hair was long and a bit unruly, hanging in his eyes and shadowing them from sight. I didn't even know what color they were. But his nose was regal and defined, his mouth was set in an oh-so-hot bored scowl, and he was wearing a black spandex bodysuit that left little to the imagination. He was gorgeous._

_And I was instantly and unexpectedly head over heels in love with him._

_Not that I would admit that, to myself or anyone else. Oh no, that was to be my most closely guarded secret for nearly the next ten years. The distance between us was bittersweet - hiding it became easier, but the longing was almost too much to bear. So, needless to say, it was a bit of a shock when he came to join us at the mansion. After the initial... misunderstandings... of his arrival, we forged a sort of friendship. Neither of us was ever one to open up, but we had our moments. I have never been more unsure of myself than I was then. I couldn't understand the depth of the attraction I had for him. I had never been this attracted to **anyone**, much less anyone like him. He was aloof and kind, reserved and outspoken, hard and soft all at the same time. The man was an enigma. An incredibly sexy enigma, but I digress... He was cold and harsh and more of an ice-hearted ass than I could ever hope to be - even on my worst day. He was everything I had ever wanted and nothing I had ever expected._

_He was perfect._

_Over time we became friends, but never anything more. We could never be anything more. I was hopeless when it came to relationships of any kind and had a dismal track record when it came to commitment. I can't even keep a goldfish alive for more than a few days. And with my mutation starting to shift into a more powerful stage, I was afraid. No one could tell me quite what was going on, and I didn't want to know what it meant for the future. But he never seemed to care about either of my insecurities. He was never afraid of my mutation, never annoyed at my cynicism, and never amused at my ignorant innocence. Every day I fell a little bit more in love with him. But we were always just friends. There was a close bond of easy companionship and teasing banter, and the occasional flirting that was more the kind you found among friends than anything real. I hoped that our friendship would be satisfying enough, but rather it only served to fuel my closeted desire for him._

_I'll admit that, when Annie told me his secret, I reacted badly. So badly, in fact, that I nearly killed any relationship we may have had. But I was afraid! For the last nine and a half years, the only thing keeping me from professing my undying love for Jean-Paul Beaubier was knowing that he would reject my advances for someone of the opposite sex. Annie seemed surprised that I didn't already know, seeing as the rest of the world did - literally. Of course I hadn't known! I had desperately wanted it, needed it, but I had never even allowed myself to imagine. It was a safety for me. I wouldn't have had to put myself out to anyone, and I wouldn't be hurt again. So I was a coward when it came to my own feelings, I could live with that. I was a safe coward. Then Annie accused me of being homophobic... Of course I was afraid! The man I loved obviously had feelings for me beyond bonding over beer and football... and that was terrifying._

_Everyone, Jean-Paul included, thought I avoided him because I was a 'pig-headed bigot.' I let them think whatever they wanted; it was easier on me. So I took the easy way out. I'm a coward, remember? I probably never would have spoken to him again if he hadn't taken the initiative..._

**-**

**FLASHBACK**

Jean-Paul burst through the door to Bobby's office, startling the owner of said office to scatter the papers he was staying up to grade all over the floor. "_Robert Louis Drake!_" He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it from the inside, turning to glare at Iceman. His ice-blue eyes were cold and unyielding, and Bobby could almost feel the anger radiating off the older man. "You've been avoiding me."

Bobby ran a hand back through his hair, smiling nervously at the angered Canadian. "Is this how they say 'hello' up North?"

Jean-Paul slammed his fists onto the desk, leaning forward to meet Bobby eye to eye. It was obvious that, even with Bobby's misplaced attempt at humor, he was furious. "You have been avoiding me. Does my sexuality bother you _that_ much? Does it truly matter _that_ much to you?" He pushed off the desk and turned away in one smooth gesture, striding across the room to resume glaring from the door. His posture was rigid with anger, but his voice spoke through betrayal and hurt. "I never told you myself because I felt that it didn't matter. I thought that you, out of everyone here, wouldn't care." His voice softened considerably, and it was almost painfully for Bobby to see him so susceptible. "I _hoped_ you wouldn't care."

Bobby stood, carefully coming up to his friend. Tentatively, afraid of either frightening him off or inciting his rage, he reached a hand out and squeezed Jean-Paul's shoulder. "I _don't_ care." His own voice was as soft and exposed as the Canuck's, and Bobby suddenly found himself in the situation he had been avoiding ever since he first met the Canadian.

Jean-Paul shrugged his hand off, composing himself into his usual, stoic mask. "If you don't care, why have you been afraid of being in the same room as me?" There it was: the question he had dreaded for years, and yet had never come up with an evasive answer to.

"Because..." Bobby trailed off, unsure of how to continue. _It would be so easy to lie, so easy to spout out anything and get him out of the room. But nothing I can say can ever condone how I've treated him these past few months... No untruth can ever mend what I did to our bond._ He sighed, ready to throw ten years of caution into the wind in a desperate attempt to fix his mistake. "Because I _really_ don't care."

Bobby was afraid that his meaning was too unclear, that his cryptic message would never be understood. He sighed in resignation as the Canadian merely stood and stared at him, his face unreadable. Ever so slowly, a smile crept across the usually harsh features of Jean-Paul's face, his eyes sparkling to match. "Well then, Otter-pop, why didn't you just _say_ so?"

**END OF FLASHBACK**

**-**

_For years I wondered what exactly it was that told him. Whether it was the obvious turmoil tearing my mind apart, or the look of panic in my eyes, or the desperation in my voice. Maybe some combination of the three. I think that, if I had asked, he would have made some flippant, sarcastic remark about having developed temporary telepathic powers. So he's a pompous ass... it's one of his more endearing qualities. One of few, I might add._

_As it turned out I was, however haltingly, able to convey my feelings for him. Not right away, of course. Oh no, it was at least six months before I was actually able to tell him that I loved him. He knew though, even without my having to saying it. I think it was obvious to the entire mansion, what with our dinners and eventually moving into the same room, but him most of all. He always knew me better than anyone else had, and usually without me having to say anything. Maybe, in some strange way, he is telepathic. Or, more likely, observant._

_That made it easier for me, his knowing what I wanted and what I was too scared to vocalize. He knew when he was pushing to far and always stopped himself, but he also knew when he was not doing enough. He always looked after my comfort first, and never brought on anything that might have made me uncomfortable. Of course, there was not much that would put me off about him; I had loved him for ten years. We moved in to a room together within four months, and have been together ever since._

Bobby stretched his arms, feeling his shoulders and neck pop free of the tension from staying in the same position for a few hours, before folding them back to pillow his head. He interlaced his fingers and stared up at the ceiling, counting the minutes until his alarm would go off and he would have to go to work. Sighing, he rolled over and wrapped his arms around the sleeping Jean-Paul, pulling him closer to nestle against his side. Jean-Paul murmured in his sleep and curled around his lover's body in way of a response. Bobby grinned and reached over to shut off his alarm clock, then turned and, ever so softly, ran his finger down the Canadian's ribs. Jean-Paul's skin twitched and a muffled noise was barely audible. His grin shifting from one of amusement to one of pure wickedness, Bobby repeated his tickling.

"Otter-pop, I love you. But if you insist on touching me this early in the morning, I expect to get something out it." Jean-Paul's voice was now fully audible, and he rolled onto his to face Bobby. Even though his words were meant to be threatening, or at least intimidating, his eyes were warm and he was grinning.

Bobby immediately sobered, looking completely serious as he nodded. "But you _were_ getting something out of it. You were getting tickled." He smoothly rolled away as Jean-Paul attempted to flip atop him, laughing as he let his lover catch him.

"You," Jean-Paul brought his face down to almost touch Bobby's, their lips only a few centimeters apart. "Are insufferable." He had Bobby's arms pinned above his head and was straddling his hips, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the patch of ice across Bobby's chest.

Bobby smirked and raised one eyebrow. "_I'm_ insufferable? This is rich coming from Mr. I'm-A-Pompous-Jackass."

"Touché." He watched in amusement as Jean-Paul's expression turned thoughtful, then back to playful. "Fortunately for you, I'm _your_ pompous jackass." The Canadian leaned down and lightly nipped Bobby's lower lip, then trailed his lips down to his collarbone. From there he moved down Bobby's chest and further, just to the waistline of his pants, when Bobby groaned. And not in the pleased way.

"I have to get to work." He sat up and pressed a fierce kiss to Jean-Paul's lips, sealing a promise to continue where they had left off later that night. Then he crawled out of bed, heading for their bathroom. "And so do you." He shut the door and Jean-Paul could hear the shower turn on. He turned to look at the alarm clock and saw that it was time to get up, then threw the offending timepiece against an opposite wall. They would definitely finish this later.

While enjoying the relaxing steam of a hot shower, Bobby laughed at the sound of his alarm clock losing a fight with the wall. Despite all his earlier insecurities, and despite all the trails and hardships he had faced, he had managed to find the love of his life. He had found where, and with whom, he belonged.

_If, when I spent so long avoiding him, anyone had told me that Jean-Paul and I were meant to be together, maybe I wouldn't have been such a coward. Maybe, instead of hiding it from who I was, I would have been more eager to embrace my secret affections. Maybe I wouldn't have wasted ten years of our life together - ten years that I am still making up for now, nearly fifteen years later. Maybe I wouldn't have made some of the stupid decisions that I did. Of course, just like when I was young and scared and confused, I had no one to tell me these things. I had to find them out on my own. Of course, I think I did a pretty good job of it._

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This was SO MUCH FUN to write! But it's over now. I mean, really over. That's it. It's over. No more one-shots that turn into nine-chapter mini-series!

Hope ya'll enjoyed the story! Drop me a review and let me know, k?

-Orion


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